


*insert title here*

by cactiist



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Panic Attacks, Song: Michael in the Bathroom (Be More Chill), had to jump on the bandwagon for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 21:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19894654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactiist/pseuds/cactiist
Summary: He let out a sigh of relief a solid 30 seconds after that, not ready right then and there to leave the safety of the bathroom he was in.And then the reality of what had happened hit him. Jeremy wasn't coming back.





	*insert title here*

"Get out of my way, _loser._ ", Jeremy snapped, his eyes narrowed and voice strangely calm, but icy and cold all the same.

  
  
Michael hesitated before nodding weakly, stepping aside as the shorter teen brushed passed him. He registered the bathroom door opening, loud Halloween music flooding before getting cut off abruptly as the sound of the door slamming behind him echoed throughout the bathroom.

A minute later and he was against the wall, sighing softly to himself as his thoughts started getting louder and louder. He could handle this. Jeremy would come back, right? Another few minutes passed by. And then someone knocked loudly against the door, causing Michael to jump. "Y-yeah?", he called out, his voice shaky and just slightly high-pitched.  
  
"Hello? Are you almost done in there? Some of us have to pee, you know!", someone informed him on the other side of the door.

Michael swallowed some spit in his mouth, clearing his voice before speaking. "I'm having my period!"  
  
"...Take your time, honey.."  
  
He let out a sigh of relief a solid 30 seconds after that, not ready right then and there to leave the safety of the bathroom he was in.

And then the reality of what had happened hit him. Jeremy wasn't coming back.

  
  
"Get out of my way, _loser._ "

He took a step back. His back was now against the wall, and he slid down, getting into a sitting position somehow as his breathing hitched.  
  
_"Loser."_

 **"Loser."**  
  
_**"Loser."**_  
  
Narrowed eyes.

Blue meeting brown.

His chest started hurting, then his thoughts got louder, that word swirling around in his head ever so fast. Sobs started to wrack his body, causing him to shake and whine and sob and _oh god was he a loser, wasn't he?_

A pathetic loser who was a loner. Who practically got stoned almost every other week, acted as a loner, and drove a red PT Cruiser.

Michael stayed in that curled up position for what felt like forever, head bowed and the lens of his glasses fogging up from the hot tears hitting the lenses.

Not long after, he shakily got up, a few miscellaneous tears falling down his face as he stumbled over to the sink. He turned it on with shaking hands before looking up at his reflection. It wasn't like he looked any better than he normally did. His eyes were bloodshot, like as if he was high. Maybe when he got out of the bathroom and people ask him why his eyes were red, he could blame it on his weed. Or from trying to get something out of his eye. Not like it would make much of the difference, but hopefully, he'd be able to avoid the judging stares and glares a bit. Maybe.

That thought was dismissed as he took his glasses off and folded them up, placing them on the counter before cupping his hands in the water and splashing it on his face. The cold water snapped him out of his panicked state by a bit, and he took a shuddering breath, rubbing away the water with the bracelets on his forearms, ignoring the pain he got from that. It didn't matter. He picked up his glasses and slid them back on his face.

Trying to get his breathing back in order, Michael looked around the bathroom, noticing that it was very much fancy. Great. He just had a panic attack in one of Jake Dillinger's bathrooms. Not that the jock would care.

Suddenly, loud screams pierced the air, sounding muffled against the bathroom door. Michael flinched from the loud sounds, trying to focus on drying his face and to give himself a mental pep-talk that _everything will be okay. You can do this._

Maybe paying more attention to what some people were screaming about outside would be a better idea.


End file.
